Three angels were standing in the middle of a round,
crystal room. Their long, silver cloaks were swaying slowly in the wind; the
rustle of their wings was the only sound breaking the intense silence. One of
them, a woman with curly, strawberry-blond hair that went to her feet, raised
her hand and a huge, white cloud formed in front of her.

“The girl deserves to know the truth,” she said to the
others.

“This is insane,” a male angel replied, shaking his
head. He ran one palm through his messy, sandy hair; his big, blue eyes seemed
to be brighter than the sky itself. “What if something goes wrong?” He stared
nervously at the picture appearing inside the cloud.

“We are losing control over her.”

“She’s right,” the other male angel said. “It’s not
safe to keep her here.” His golden eyes shifted impatiently between his
companions. “We need to send her back to the earth.”

“You will follow her,” the woman said, looking at the
blue-eyed angel. He was the youngest of the three of them, and his age was the
only thing that stopped him from breaking the order. He didn’t want to spy on
anyone. He used to be one of the best guardian angels, until one day he made a
mistake and was obliged to follow the orders of the top-ranked angels. It was
the worst part of his punishment; he hated being told what to do.

“You didn’t have to say that,” he snapped, meeting the
woman’s emotionless eyes. Sometimes it was really hard to believe that she was
an angel, and not a demon wearing snow-white wings. “You know I would have
never left her unprotected.”

“Right.” The other angel smirked.

“Albert,” the woman hissed, warningly. Her voice
sounded calm, but the intonation said it all — she didn’t approve fights
between her subordinates. “This meeting is over. I’ll see you two later.” And
just like that she disappeared, making the air in the room crackle. Albert
grimaced at the force of energy left after her disappearance. He wasn’t as
strong as she was, and the powers she possessed always made him uneasy. He
looked one last time at the blue-eyed angel and followed the woman.

Left alone, the angel stared at the picture of the
girl he was supposed to spy on. The girl was a guardian angel. She was slim and
beautiful; with long, black hair and big green eyes, shadowed by the curling
lashes.

She was walking down the alley surrounded by the
age-old oaks, watching her fosterling. She seemed to be relaxed, but in reality
her every instinct was on alert. Her wings were outspread, and though no human
could see her like that, the creatures of the heavens always knew when she was
on duty.

“I won’t let
you down, Claire,” the angel swore in a whisper, making the cloud in front of
him turn black. “Never again….”

Chapter 1

I was staring at the file in my hands. It was thick
and heavy, and I didn’t have the slightest desire to read it.

“What’s this?” I asked Bert, my trainer.

“Your new assignment,” he said, walking down the hall
that led to the training rooms.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “My new assignment?
Seriously?”

“Yes. Why?” He opened the door to one of the rooms and
led me to the wall with crystal daggers.

“I was reassigned just a few days ago, remember? No angel
changes humans so often!”

“It’s not your call, Claire. They give commands, you execute
them. Period.” He gave me one of the daggers to replace the one I broke last
night, trying to kill a demon following my fosterling. “Be careful with the
weapons. You are the only guardian angel who breaks them so often.”

“I’m also the only guardian angel who destroys the
biggest number of demons.”

“True.” Bert smiled briefly, and looked at the wound
on my right wing. “Close your eyes, I will heal it.”

I sighed and obeyed, waiting for Bert’s powers to deal
with the wound. It didn’t hurt much, but the feeling wasn’t pleasant either.
Guardian angels couldn’t heal themselves. We always needed the help of other
angels, whose powers were different from ours.

My thoughts switched
back to my new assignment, and I sighed again. Bert was right, I couldn’t help
matters. And neither could he. He was just a messenger in this case. I answered
to him for my every step, but when it came to the orders of Santunary, he was
as helpless as I was.

No one could ignore the words of Ledons — top-ranked
angels. They formed the Santunary: the highest and the cruelest governmental
authority, and the most respectful body of the heavens (except for God, of
course). There were no ‘ifs’ for
Ledons. They accepted only ‘yes’ or ‘no’. The last word was better not to
pronounce if you cared about your life.

Ledons were followed by Deerons, our trainers. They
guarded the gates of the heavens. No one could come or go without their
permission, even the souls.

Then there was us, the guardian angels, followed by
our loyal servants, the Pastreens. I didn’t know what exactly their duties
consisted of, but they were a real pain in our necks; always watching us and
laughing at our mistakes. Though sometimes they were really helpful, especially
when it came to doing my hair or cleaning my wings.

“So who’s my new baby?” I asked the trainer. We called
humans our babies, because we felt like their nannies that were always there
for them, no matter how bad or good they really were.

“Why don’t you open the file?” Bert winked at me. Oh,
no…it was a sign of bad news.

“Alan Rosenford,”
I read the name, written on the file’s cover. “Who is he?”

“Just don’t tell me you’ve never heard about him! How
long have you been working in New York…for two years? And you’ve never heard
about Alan Rosenford?”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I haven’t.”

“Well, this is probably for the best.” Bert smirked
and vanished. Literally.

Angels always appeared out of nowhere and disappeared
as abruptly. But I hated when Bert did that. He never answered my questions,
and he always left without saying good-bye. Not that it was the only unpleasant
thing about my life. Nothing about it was normal actually.

Sometimes it felt like my life was an endless cascade
of ups and downs. I could fly and I could walk; I could save and I could
destroy. Heaven was my home, and the days I spent there couldn’t be compared
with anything else; they were special.

But there were also days that I had to spend walking
down the roads of sinful earth. Everything about them was even and painfully
predictable.

Unlike those humans I guard, I don’t need to count
seconds; I have a whole eternity to live. I don’t need sleep or food, though
cakes and ice-cream are my weaknesses and the best things about my perfect life.

I don’t have a
family, and I never had one. I was created by the heavens. I don’t have
friends, but I do have enemies. And all of them are demons — soulless, cruel
creatures that make people do things they will have to spend forever in hell
for.

My job is to protect humans from demons, making their
lives better and happier. Funny enough, I’m the unhappiest creature in the
world. It feels like my happiness is always near, and too far away at the same
time.

There are things that I will probably never be able to
understand. I don’t know what love means. It always felt like something
mysterious and too unreal. But unlike humans, I can live perfectly well without
it. As well as without boys, parties and other essential attributes of every
girl’s life.

But there is one thing that I can’t live a single day
without. My wings. They are my faith and an essential part of me. I can’t show
them to humans, and every time I let them see me, they think I’m just a girl in
my early twenties. Too bad no human girl knows how to cross the distance
between two places in seconds.

I closed my eyes and imagined myself standing in the
middle of my sky-blue living room. I liked the color. It reminded me of my true
home and the sky that I liked gazing at so much.

I had a two-bedroom apartment not far away from
Central Park. I didn’t have much time to spend there, but there were times,
like today, when I wasn’t on duty. My last assignment, a five-year-old Annabel
Walders left for a few days to visit her grandparents, but I couldn’t leave New
York, so she was guarded by one of the local angels of Washington.

It was supposed to be a free weekend: no work, no
demons; only freedom and me. Yeah, too good to be true….

I looked back at the files I was still holding in my
hands. I never read people’s files. I liked making my own opinion about them.
No matter how bad or perfect they were, the only thing I cared about were their
souls. And even a criminal’s soul can be pure. Because when people kill or lie
it means that demons win. It also means that angels lose. And we lose only if
we don’t take our duties seriously. Usually it leads to becoming Pastreens. Or
fallen. Both variants close the doors to the heavens and leave us wandering
around the earth forever. And no matter how heavy the sin we commit is, we
always want to be forgiven and returned to the heavens.

Speaking of sins….

“Nolan, what are you doing here?” I asked the fallen
angel, standing behind me.

“Good to see you too, Claire.” He smiled, taking a
seat on my couch. The guy didn’t need my permission to make himself at home.

Nolan was the only fallen who never wanted to be
forgiven. At least that was what he was saying every time I asked him about his
life. He liked living among humans. Though I never asked him about the rule he
broke to be kicked out of the heavens.

“I heard about your new assignment,” he said, turning
on the TV set.

“Why do you even care?” I crossed my arms, watching
him curiously. I didn’t understand why Nolan liked spending time with me. My
life was a picture of everything he couldn’t have.

“Because we are best friends. And friends always care
about each other.”

I rolled my eyes. “We are far from being friends,
Nolan. Let alone best friends. You
are stalking me. This is how it calls.”

“Whatever you call it, the fact remains — I’m here,
and I want to know how you feel about being Alan’s new babysitter.” He smiled
again, and I desperately wanted to slap him in the face. God, forgive me.

“What is wrong with the guy that everyone is so
worried about me guarding him?”

“Sarcasm doesn’t fit your pretty face, my angel. And
Alan is a good guy. You will see.”

“Can’t wait,” I muttered, heading for the kitchen to
get a piece of a strawberry pie I made earlier today.

“How can you think about food when your human is
dying?” Nolan shouted after me.

I stopped and turned around, barely breathing. “What
did you say?”

“Alan Rosenford was taken to the St. Mary’s hospital
about an hour ago. He kissed a tree with a bumper of his new car.”

No more details were needed. I closed my eyes and sank
into the red vortex of a bittersweet smoke that took me straight to the
hospital ward.

The moment I opened my eyes the smell of drugs hit my
nostrils. I hated hospitals. To me they always looked overcrowded. Hundreds of
lost souls, whose physical bodies died and were not allowed to ascend to the
heavens, were flying everywhere, making people shiver and shrink from the pure
cold they consisted of. Humans didn’t see them, but I did. And they did see me.

“He doesn’t look good,” Nolan said, coming closer to
the bed where a guy in his mid twenties was sleeping. He was on a drip; about a
dozen multicolored cables went from his body to the monitors on his left.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t look any better being him,” I
said, examining the numerous bruises and scratches on the guy’s body. “How bad
was the crash?”

“The boy will need a new car. But I don’t think he
cares about a few more scars. It’s not his first accident.”

“You said he’s a car racer, right? How often does he
get into accidents?”

“Every week or so.”

“Does he even care about his life?” I didn’t like people
who risked their lives just to get an adrenaline rush. It meant their souls
were hurt. And they didn’t want to do anything to heal them. Stupid humans…they
didn’t know that losing a soul meant becoming demons.

“You didn’t read his file, did you?” Nolan chuckled at
his own words. He knew I didn’t. “You should probably start reading files,
Claire. It would save you plenty of time.”

“Thanks for the advice, Nolan. Maybe one day I will
follow it.”

I took Alan’s hand in mine and tried to feel his soul.
I was good at feeling souls. Not every angel could do that. It was one of my
angelic powers that I had been trying to perfect every day, for the last seven
centuries of my existence. And with every passing day I could tell more and
more about the souls I was guarding.

“He is a good person,” I said, knowing that Nolan was
still there with us. Every time I tried to feel someone’s soul, it felt like
sinking into the depths of multicolored oceans, where every single word, action
and thought had its own shade.

“I told you,” he said, and I smiled; my best friend liked being right.

I let go of Alan’s hand and breathed a sigh of relief.
Guarding good people was always easier. Demons couldn’t get to their souls, and
fighting them was as simple as anything.

I was good at fighting demons. They didn’t stand a
chance with me. Especially when I was guarding children. They were like little
angels to me, and I always felt sorry for the couples that couldn’t have them.
It felt like the worst curse ever.

My new assignment wasn’t a child anymore, but
something about him wasn’t right. His soul was too fragile and sensitive. Not a
regular picture of a man’s soul. Maybe I should have read his file after all?…

“Hey…Claire, you okay?” Nolan asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied absently, still watching
the guy on the bed. “How old is he?”

“Will turn twenty-five next week.”

Even with the dark-purple bruises all over his face
and a swollen lip Alan looked much younger than his real age. I couldn’t say
the same about his soul. If I didn’t know it belonged to him, I would say it
was a soul of an eighty-year-old man. Suddenly I wanted to know what happened
to make him get old too soon.

I nodded and the fallen angel disappeared. He was
always saying the same thing, “Call me,
if you need me.” And we both knew that he would never be able to help me if
I actually needed help. We played for different teams.

Diana Nixon is a poet and the author of fantasy
and contemporary romances.

She was born in Minsk, Belarus, where she
currently lives. In 2008 she graduated from Belorussian state University. She
has a Master of Law degree and speaks several foreign languages, including
English, Polish and Spanish.

Thursday, 28 November 2013

Time passes . . . sometimes too quickly, other times not fast
enough, but that’s not what’s important. The essential thing is what we learn
about ourselves during that passage of time and how we apply it. Will we
continue to follow the destructive paths we find ourselves on? Will we give in
to circumstances that seem completely unchangeable? Or will we desperately
fight to hold onto those we love and to what’s good inside us—no matter how
terrible the cost?

I only know I would do whatever was required of me to keep
Portia, but in a world of witches, warlocks, and demons, anything can happen.

“Working on the bike today, I see.” Marsha smiled at me,
drying her hands on a dishtowel as she leaned against the doorframe leading
from the kitchen into the garage.

“Yeah,” I replied as I attempted to crank a bolt on the
engine tighter. “It would be nice if this stupid piece would cooperate with me,
though.” My hand slipped off the wrench and my finger slid against a piece of
sharp metal. I felt the tear in my skin before I saw the blood. “Damn it!” I
grumbled, grabbing the oily rag next to me and holding it against the wound.

Marsha started laughing and I glanced at her with a
questioning stare. “Why don’t you use your magic? It would be much easier on
you from the looks of it.”

“For the same reason you’re washing the dishes by hand,” I
replied, nodding toward her dishtowel. “I don’t want to die of boredom.
Besides, I like staying busy working. You know that.”

She nodded. “I do. I simply find it funny you don’t use magic
to help yourself when things are tough.”

Shrugging, I stared back at the bike. “It’s a vendetta now.
Using magic is like saying I let the bike beat me. It’s not going to win.”

Marsha continued chuckling, shaking her head. “You and your
competitive nature. You’d rather be hurt than give in. It’s a shame you can’t
do sports. It’d probably help you release some of this pent up aggression
you’re always carrying around.”

“Blowing up something usually helps take care of things like
that.”

“And what exactly have you been blowing up?” She suddenly
seemed concerned.

I sighed. “Don’t worry. Only some old dead trees out in the
middle of nowhere. And before you start the lecture about forest fires; yes, I
make sure nothing catches on fire.”

She eyed me for a moment, as if trying to decide whether or
not to trust me. “Fine. Just be careful. Are you planning on working on this
motorcycle all day?”

“For the most part. I told Bruce I’d try to have it done for
him by the end of the month.”

“He was so excited when he found out how good you are with
bikes. I think he’s wanted it to be rebuilt for quite a while. Every time I’ve
seen him, he asks me about it. That’s all he ever talks to me about.”

I grinned. “I know. I can’t believe he had this clunker
sitting in his garage for so many years. I have a cool idea for it, but I’ll
need to get some help.”

“Really? What?”

“See this area around the wheels?” I pointed to where the
spokes came together. “I was thinking it would be cool to have some custom made
metal flames here that would match the flames on the gas tank. It would tie the
design together nicely, don’t you think?”

She smiled. “You have such a great eye for detail, and yes,
I agree. I think Bruce would love it. Where would you find something like
that?”

“I want to go to Laramie Jackson’s knife shop and see if he
can help me design something unique for it.” I stood and went to my workbench
to deposit my tools, before washing my hands at the basin sink.

“That’s a fabulous idea! I know you love the athame he
custom made for you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m sure he’s happy to help
you. You’ve had him outfit half the coven with knives now.”

“The best for the best.” I winked at her. “Do you need me to
get anything for you while I’m out?”

“Not that I can think of right now. I’ll text you if
anything comes to mind. Are you going to see Portia too?”

She caught me totally off guard and I snapped my head over
to look at her, squinting and wondering if she was hinting at something else.

“Why would I go see her?” I hadn’t told anyone—not even
her—about my interest in Portia. I didn’t want anyone to think it was wrong or
tell me I couldn’t be with her. Until I discovered more information about what
was happening between us, I intended to keep it to myself.

Apparently, I sounded slightly too aggressive in my
response. “Easy there, killer.” She held up a hand in surrender. “I noticed you
seemed to have a connection with her is all. I know you don’t like to allow
yourself to make friends, but she’s different. She’s a witch, and she’s part of
your coven. That means you won’t have to keep any secrets from her. There
hasn’t been anyone like that in your life before—at least not your age anyway.
I worry about you being alone all the time.”

I sighed, walking to my bike. “No, I didn’t have any plans
to go see her today,” I replied as I straddled the bike, secretly wishing
Portia needed me for some reason.

“Well, can I intrude and ask if you like her?”

Glancing over, I saw a soft look in her eyes. Was she trying
to play matchmaker all of a sudden? I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

“Of course I like her. I like everyone,” I replied vaguely,
slipping my key into the ignition.

“You know what I mean. Would you ever be interested in
dating her?”

I chuckled. “You really think Sean would go for that?”

She shrugged. “I don’t see why not. You’re a good kid. He
knows that.”

“We may be close in school, but you can’t forget, I’m
eighteen and she’s sixteen. I think Sean would sooner slap a restraining order
on me than let me date his only child.”

“I don’t see why your age matters one bit; unless you’re
planning on doing something that would make you being a legal adult and her a
minor a problem. Is there something I should know?” She stared pointedly at me.

I laughed loudly. “Pipe down, Mom. I’ve been nothing but the perfect gentleman.”

Her gaze wandered over me. “I mean, I understand you’re a
man now, and men have urg—”

“Stop right there, Marsha. This conversation is finished.” I
started the bike, gassing the throttle and the garage echoed with the sound.

She cupped her hands and shouted above the noise. “I only
wanted to know if you want to date her!”

“What?” I hollered back with a grin, revving the engine
again, pretending I couldn’t hear her.

“Do you want to date her?” She waved her hands at the
exhaust fumes filling the air.

Pointing to my ear, I shook my head. “I’ll talk to you when
I get home.” I slipped my helmet on and took off out the open garage door.
Tossing a quick glance in her direction as I turned onto the street, I started
laughing when she threw her hands up in a frustrated gesture and went inside.

~~~~~~

About the Author:

Lacey Weatherford was born in Ft. Meade Maryland while her
father was serving in the military. She has been a life long resident of
Arizona, spending most of her time growing up in the small rural town of Clay
Springs.

It was while she was attending the small country school in Clay
Springs, that she read her first "big" book at the age of eight. It
was a Nancy Drew novel and Lacey was instantly hooked. She read every book that
she could find in the series and decided that she wanted to write stories too.

Lacey spent a lot of time at the library from that time
forward, even volunteering in her later teen years and early twenties. She
would don a crazy clown outfit for the Friends of the Library fundraisers in an
effort to help get the new town library built.

When she and her husband moved away from the area, Lacey took
the opportunity to take some creative writing classes at the local college to
help further along her interests. Several years later, they were blessed with
the opportunity to move back to Clay Springs with their family. The town had
finally succeeded in building their library and Lacey had the opportunity to be
President of the Friends of the Library for a very short time, before
relocating.

Lacey and her family still live in the White Mountains of
Arizona, where she continues to write young adult novels that have a
fantasy/fairytale or paranormal bent to them, as well as being sure to include
a great romantic storyline!

Ford Aston is getting the f*ck out of Denver. He does not give a shit about blizzards, getting his old-ass Bronco over the Rocky Mountains in one piece, or a girl knocking on his hotel door looking to be saved.Ford Aston is known for many things. Being an emotionless, messed up bastard, a freakishly smart social outcast, and a cold, domineering master who keeps “pets” instead of girlfriends.And after Rook broke his heart, he plans to keep it that way.******Ashleigh is getting the f*ck out of somewhere, but she’s not quite sure where she’s coming from, let alone where she’s going.Ashleigh is known for nothing, and that’s exactly what she’s got going for her. She’s broke, stranded in the mountains with a three month old baby, and Ford Aston is f*cking with her head.Big. Time.And she plans to f*ck with his right back.****** It’s a coy game at first, filled with flirting, and innuendo—but Ford soon realizes something is not quite right with Ashleigh. In fact, something is seriously, seriously wrong and the closer they get to their final destination, the closer Ford gets to the truth.One night of devastation, self-loathing, and emptiness turns into the best thing that ever happened to Ford Aston. But one day of in-your-face reality threatens Ashleigh's whole existence. Can Ford allow another woman into his heart and risk the possibility of being hurt, or will he walk away from Ashleigh just when she needs him most?

My thoughts:

I LOVED the Rook and Ronin series and so I was so happy to learn that Ford was getting his own book. I really don't know whether I should love this guy or hate him. But one thing I do know is that I really need this book!

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